I Bare My Skin
by Last Munichorn
Summary: AU after 3x14 "On My Way". After her accident, Quinn is left paralyzed and Rachel silences herself. Can they help each other find new meaning again?
1. We All Come Undone

_Silence!  
They won't stop talking  
Am I strong enough to ignore them  
Silence is all I wanted  
Always saves me when I feel like falling*_

* * *

She keeps seeing the words across the irritatingly white screen in front of her eyes: "On my way". She remembers how her heart swelled with relief when reading them. She remembers the sound of Santana's phone crashing to the floor while uttering the words "Quinn's in the hospital" only minutes later. She remembers Finn telling her that "Rachel, we have to start or else we'll lose our spot" and remembers wanting to answer. She remembers wanting to ask him if he was being serious. But she had no words. No words left.

Instead, she took her daddy's car keys from the table and ran outside, her fathers hot on her heels. She remembers seeing Brittany and Santana getting into a car and speeding off, remembers Sue, of all people, scrambling into the car with her. She remembers her dress getting in the way multiple times before she finally managed to hit the paddles, her shoes long forgotten at her dad's feet.

_There's something, everyone has something that might take them up to that edge._

Mr. Schuester's words are ringing in her ears. She honestly never thought that anything could destroy her strength of will. But, Rachel has found that something. The guilt weighing on her shoulders is the straw – it feels so much heavier, more like a whole building – that breaks the camel's back. The utter devastation on top of it is just…unbearable.

She has to correct Mr. Schuester though. Rachel doesn't think ending her life would make any difference. She knows she'd only hurt more people in the process. But she knows, she just knows that something inside her shattered the minute they got to the hospital and heard the details about what happened. Something inside her broke and she doesn't know if it can ever be repaired again.

She spent all weekend in the hospital, only changing out of the dress – God, the dress had felt like acid being poured all over her skin, but she deserved that reminder, didn't she? – when Kurt and Mercedes dragged her to the bathroom.

When she had to return back home last night, she prepared everything for the school day to come. She used every break between classes that morning and, by the time school is over, she had resigned from every single club she was in – except Glee.

As she walks towards the choir room, letter in hand, she glances at the clock one more time. She is early; it will be easier this way.

But, when she steps into the choir room, Mr. Schue isn't the only one already there (she's surprised he's early in the first place, she was going to leave the letter on the piano for him); Finn is there, too.

She takes a deep breath as she steps towards the piano and hands her teacher the letter. She's almost out the door when he speaks up.

"Rachel, what is this?"

She turns around but doesn't say anything. She hasn't said a word since she heard Santana's phone crash to the ground right next to her. Instead, she hangs her head a little and stares down at her feet.

"Rachel, we don't want you to leave Glee. No one is blaming you for this! Maybe you should see Ms. Pillsbury for a while."

"You're leaving Glee club?" She flinches back at Finn's outburst. When she turns around again, desperate to get out of the room (preferably before the rest of the Gleeks turn up), she feels a hand wrap around her wrist and spin her around.

"This has to stop, Rachel. You haven't talked to me at all since you walked out on me – on _our_ wedding. Not one word."

When she still doesn't say anything, she feels his grip tighten slightly, bordering on uncomfortable.

"Just talk to me, Rach!" He's so loud – too loud. It makes her head feel like it's exploding.

"Hands off, Finnept!" She flinches again when she hears Santana speak up right behind her. Yet another person she can't bear to look in the eyes.

"Santana, for once just stay out of –"

"I said hands off, Finncompetent. NOW!"

She feels his grip loosen and, then, his hand leaves her wrist completely. She slowly steps back. She just wants to leave already.

"Rach, why are you doing this?" She looks up at him but doesn't reply. "You haven't responded to and of my texts or calls –" (she doesn't even know where her phone is, doesn't want to either) " – you won't even talk to me in person. I feel like you don't even want to be with me anymore!"

More of their friends are starting to shuffle in and Rachel shakes her head slightly. She just wants to get out of here!

"Are you breaking up with me?" She has no idea how he got that idea from a few days of silence but as she hears the words echo through the room and feels everyone's eyes trained on her, she finds that she simply doesn't care anymore. She doesn't care about any of this.

So, she simply nods and turns to leave – again.

"You can't just break up with me like that. We were supposed to get married, for Christ's sake!"

Rachel can feel hot tears burn trails down her cheeks at the thought of what should have been the happiest day of her life and turned out to be the most devastating instead.

"God, can you be any more selfish, you giant, useless oaf? She can and she just did. So, just back the hell off, Finnacceptable!"

"Rach –"

"Shut up already! Berry and I are going to the hospital. Britts, you coming?" Rachel sees the blonde nod and stand up from where she had just taken a seat as she feels Santana's arm over her shoulder, leading her out of the choir room – finally. She felt like she could breathe again, even if just for a second.

* * *

She doesn't quite remember anything after being dragged from the choir room. She's sitting in the hallway in the ICU across from Quinn's hospital room, with Santana and Brittany surprisingly to her left and right. They're talking at her but she wished they'd just disappear. She doesn't even really hear them anyway. She wonders whether they're actually talking to her or to each other.

"Rachel?"

"Berry!"

"San, why hasn't Rachel been talking? Is she okay?"

"Berry, are you even listening to us?"

Okay, so they are talking to her, mostly.

Quinn still hasn't woken up from surgery and, at this point, she has started preparing herself that it might not happen at all. She might never see those hazel eyes again, staring at her intensely.

Quinn has been allowed visitors since this morning and her mom is with her most of the time. She wonders why Santana and Brittany haven't gone in. She knows why she hasn't. She doesn't know what Quinn looks like right now. The doctors told them that the truck crashed into the driver's side. She doesn't want to forget what Quinn looked like before this. She doesn't want the image of a bruised and wounded Quinn to be how she remembers her if she doesn't wake up.

"Come on, Berry. Let's go in. Judy just told us she's off to get some coffee and that we can go in if we want to see her."

She doesn't look up, doesn't know how to ever look the two cheerleaders in the eyes ever again with their best friend still unconscious. She simply shakes her head, feeling a new wave of tears slowly trail down her cheeks.

She hears the Latina sigh and getting up. "Come on Britt, let's go inside for a bit, okay? I know Quinn will love that you brought Mr. Duck for her." She only now notices the stuffed duck in the blonde's lap, pale hands (so much like Quinn's) clutching it tightly.

"We'll be back in a while. Don't go anywhere, okay?" She wonders if Santana has ever spoken to her so kindly, wonders why _this_ would be the moment to start. But she only nods. She wouldn't know where to go anyway.

She doesn't really have anywhere to go. At home, her fathers are watching her every move, looking at her pityingly. She can barely stand being near them. She can't go to any friends – she's not even all that sure she has any real ones, maybe Kurt – and she definitely can't go to Finn either. She's never quite felt this alone.

She sees Ms. Fabray walking towards her, coffee in hand, when the doctor stops the older woman. "Ms. Fabray?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to talk to you about your daughter's condition yet. I was in the OR. My nurses must have mostly filled you in but there's one more thing I wanted to talk to you about personally."

She can see the woman swallow, probably aware that she's going to be hit with yet more bad news. "Of course, I'm listening."

"As you are probably aware, your daughter has suffered a lot of fractures, specifically to her ribs and her left arm. Of course, those will all heal with time. However, I must inform you that her spinal cord was also injured in the accident and I was unable to fix the damage during surgery without further risking her life."

Rachel freezes. She knows what the doctor is saying. She's also quite sure that Judy knows what he is saying even though she still presses out a "what are you saying, Dr. Collins?"

"If your daughter wakes up Ms. Fabray –"

"When, Dr. Collins. _When _my daughter wakes up." She wish she'd have an ounce of the faith that Ms. Fabray has. Maybe it isn't faith though. Maybe it simply sheer desperation. Maybe it is her knowing that she wouldn't be able to deal with the other option.

"Of course," he tells her, sadness clouding his face. "Should she wake up, she will not be able to use her legs anymore. I'm sorry to inform you that your daughter Quinn is paralyzed."

_Quinn is paralyzed._

She hears is ringing through her head along with the words "on my way" constantly flashing before her eyes. She feels hot tears run down her cheeks, and her breath start to quicken, feels a scream forming in her throat but all that makes it out of her mouth is a pathetically small whimper instead.

She did this. She did this to Quinn. She wanted to get married (technically she didn't really want to, it felt so wrong in so many ways but she's Rachel Berry, she doesn't back out) and she wanted Quinn there. She's the reason Quinn will never walk again. She's the reason Quinn will never have a reason to wear that Cheerios uniform again. Quinn will never dance again, never invade her personal space again to glare down at her.

Quinn is paralyzed.

"Berry! Rachel!"

"San, she's scaring me. What's happening?"

"Rachel? Can you hear me?" She sees more than feels the Latina's tan hands grip her own that are desperately holding onto the side of her chair. Her ears are ringing; her body has started shaking all over.

Quinn is paralyzed.

"Rachel, you need to breathe! Look at me, damnit!"

She feels the Latina's hands tighten around hers but her gaze shifts away from her as Rachel notices the older Fabray sit in a chair not far from her own.

"Judy, what is happening? Did Finn do this? Was he here while we were in Quinn's room?"

Quinn. Quinn is paralyzed.

Rachel can feel every single muscle in her body, everything is aching. She can feel her lungs strain against her ribcage as she tries desperately to take deeper breaths but all that comes out are choked sobs and whimpers.

She doesn't expect the older blonde to answer and technically she doesn't. "My daughter will never walk again."

She feels the grip on her hands loosen slightly before tightening.

"No!" Brittany must have started crying instantly. Rachel can relate. What else is there to do? The Latina in front of her hasn't said a word though. She hears the girl in front of her take a deep breath. Then another. And another.

"Rachel, you need to calm down, okay? It's gonna be fine. No one is blaming you for this!" She has no idea how Santana is even able to talk right now. Her voice sounds strained and forced.

"We're not blaming you!"

She doesn't believe her. But to Rachel it doesn't matter anyway. It doesn't matter whether _they_ are blaming her or not. _She_ is blaming herself.

As Brittany starts joining in and sits down next to her, putting a hand on her thigh in what was probably supposed to be a calming gesture, Rachel has had enough. She needs them to stop talking. She wants to yell at them to just stop but no words are coming out.

So she does the only thing she can do. She stands up and she leaves. She walks away.

Quinn is paralyzed.

* * *

_This is going nowhere  
This is far too much  
For my heart to take it  
Sometimes I'm losing touch  
With this world I'm living in  
But I keep on fighting  
To be the one I've been before  
To be me again*_

***5Bugs - Inside of Me (German Alternative Rock band. They're awesome. If you like that kind of music, you should check them out :D)**

**Alright, I promised the Faberry fans from "Out of Reach" I'd be back with more Faberry, didn't I? So, here we go. I'm aware that "High Enough" isn't complete yet but this is a surprise for my best friend, so don't be mad :) I'm just going to say this once now and warn you. Quinn will NOT walk again in this story. Anyway, let me know what you think and whether you think this is worth continuing. I hope some of my old readers have found their way back :)  
**

**Kisses from Germany!**


	2. As Days Go By

"_You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no . . . anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just — exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever . . . lost."  
― J.K. Rowling, __Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban __―_

* * *

Rachel couldn't stay away too long. She returned to the hospital just a day later and it is now day four of spending the hours after school in the very same chair in front of Quinn's hospital room. Ms. Fabray has asked her three days in a row whether she would like to go in, but after Rachel shook her head 'no' for the third time, she has stopped asking.

She had thought about it the first time the older Fabray had asked her and taken her time until she shook her head but, in the end, she feels like the last thing Quinn needed right now was having her around. She had done enough as it is, hadn't she? The second time, there was no hesitation whatsoever. But maybe, just maybe, her pondering the first time around is what made Quinn's mother ask her a third time.

Today is Friday and usually she would spend her Friday nights with Finn or Kurt but once the nurse walks towards her – her way of letting her know it was time for her to leave for the night – she simply walks home to have a late dinner with her dads. Her dads have waited for her with dinner every single night this week, making sure that she ate at least a little.

She feels as if she's on autopilot. She gets up – she doesn't bother doing her morning routine anymore, after all, there's no need to run towards a Tony if she isn't talking, much less singing – and makes her dads happy by eating a small fruit salad; she goes to school eats her lunch on the bleachers, spends her free period right after in the library and walks to the hospital right after school. (She's immensely glad that both the hospital and her home are in walking distance. Ever since she frantically drove to the hospital after hearing about the accident, the thought of being behind a wheel has been making her sick.)

For days now, she could tell that part after part of her was ripped away, leaving her an empty shell of who she used to be. She has felt like the ground has slowly been falling out from underneath her feet. What if she can't recover from this? What if _Quinn_ can't recover from this? What if she never even wakes up?

However, when she gets to the hospital on Saturday morning, something has changed. She can see Brittany sitting in her usual seat – she can just sit in another one for today – and Santana talking to Ms. Fabray quietly in front of Quinn's room. She only hears bits and pieces: "is she okay?", Ms. Fabray's answer is too quiet for her to hear, "did they tell her about, about…", she can see Santana choke on words, whatever they may be, "no, not yet, they need to see how she's doing first to avoid a setback", and that can only mean… she can feel her legs starting to give and the sound around her start to fade as the Latina keeps talking to the older blonde woman. She takes a seat unnoticed a few seats down from Brittany, who she now notices is sitting at the edge of her seat, fidgeting.

The moment Santana turns around and sees Rachel, she quickly nods towards Brittany and walks over to the brunette. Rachel can see Ms. Fabray approaching the blonde cheerleader – "would you like to see her, Brittany?" – as the Latina crouches down in front of her as if she were a little child having lost her parents in the mall.

"She's awake, Berry. She woke up a few hours ago and, so far, her vitals are fine and the doctors say she's healing well. It's gonna be fine now. Everything's gonna be fine!"

Rachel almost believes her. She can almost feel relief wash over her but then she remembers.

Quinn is paralyzed. Quinn doesn't _know_ she is paralyzed. They don't want to tell her because they fear that it could cause a setback. Nothing is fine. Nothing is going to be fine. Quinn is paralyzed.

She simply lowers her gaze, unable to meet the Latina's eyes for even a second longer.

"Please, just say something. Anything is fine, really."

From the corner of her eyes, she can see the two blondes looking at her before the older of the two leads Brittany towards Quinn's room. Why does everyone have to keep looking at her? How _can_ they when she can't even bare to look at_ herself_ anymore?

"Don't you want to see her, Rachel? Don't you want to tell her how happy you are that she's fine? You don't have to talk to me; you can just talk to Quinn instead. She'll be happy to see you!"

Rachel just stares at her in disbelief, sure that she must have misheard. Because she thinks Santana just said Quinn was fine. Fine? Really? She's paralyzed! She also thinks Santana just told her Quinn would be happy to see her. Why would she? Rachel is the only reason she's in here in the first place. If she hadn't made it her mission to be yet another girl stupid enough to marry before graduating, Quinn would be happily sitting at their lunch table, probably rolling her eyes at something the Latina said.

No, Quinn wouldn't want to see her. She would probably yell at her to get out. The smaller girl would probably deserve that too. However, Quinn probably wouldn't be strong enough to yell at her yet and that stark reminder and contrast to whom she used to be, to the cheerleader who yelled in her face and made her whole body tremble with both fear and sheer admiration, would be even more painful than having the blonde yell at her to leave. Rachel doesn't think she could bare a whispered "I want you to leave".

"Alright, I understand. You probably need a few minutes. I'll go see if Britts and Q are alright and you can just join us whenever you're ready, okay?"

Needless to say, Rachel doesn't go into Quinn's hospital room. She leaves just minutes after. She doesn't go to the hospital on Sunday at all, choosing to catch up on the reading for her AP Literature class instead.

* * *

On Monday during lunch, Brittany joins her on the bleachers. She doesn't talk, just sits next to her. Close enough to make sure that Rachel knows she was sitting _with_ her, but not too close to suffocate her like so many others did every time they cornered her in the hallway, attempting to make her talk. She doesn't go to the hospital on Monday either, walking home right after school instead and burying herself in homework.

On Tuesday, Brittany joins her again during lunch. She sits quietly throughout the whole lunch period, the only sound coming from eating her sandwich (Rachel barely ever touches the lunch her father prepares for her; she always gives the rest to a homeless person on her way home). Before she leaves, however, the blonde speaks up: "I miss seeing you at the hospital." Rachel does go to the hospital that day to sit down in her chair in front of Quinn's room, if only to avoid the Latina's rage for making the blonde cheerleader unhappy.

On Wednesday, Brittany doesn't hesitate. She starts talking the minute she sits down: "Everyone in Glee has gone to visit Quinn. She doesn't say much yet. The doctor says it's hard for her to speak because it hurts her lungs. Something about broken ribs. I didn't really understand all of it. He used a lot of complicated words that I don't know." The blonde tells her about Glee practice and about the two empty chairs in the choir room that no one dares to remove. She never asks Rachel anything, never pressures her to talk. It's the most at ease that Rachel has felt since Quinn's accident.

On Thursday, she is almost disappointed when Brittany doesn't show up at the beginning of lunch. She arrives ten minutes later though, breathing heavily with an excuse on her lips: "Sorry, I had to calm down San. Someone said something mean about Q in the hallway and she got really angry." Of course, that was it. Brittany is innocent like that.

"Quinn's been asking about you. She doesn't talk much but she's been asking about you every day since she woke up. No one really knows what to tell her. On Sunday, Mercedes told her you were probably busy practicing scales. On Tuesday, Kurt told her you were at dance class. Yesterday, Sam told her you had to help your father with gardening. I think that's when she knew that they were lying." When Rachel goes to the hospital that day, she almost gets up from her chair to knock on the door to the blonde's room. But once she gets up, her legs take her home instead.

On Friday, Brittany is on time and brings her tea – an apology for being late the day before, she explains. "She thinks you don't want to see her. She thinks you're mad for ruining the wedding or something. I told her that you were sad and would see her when you felt better." You just have to love Brittany.

On Saturday, Santana yells at her in the hospital hallway. She yells at her for the first time since that day – "This is your fault!" – "If you and Finnocence weren't so utterly stupid, none of us would be here." – "You must be the most selfish person I know." – "Welcome to the Rachel Berry show!" – and Rachel feels like the world makes a little more sense again. She doesn't go to the hospital on Sunday.

On Monday, Brittany is already sitting on the bleachers when Rachel arrives. She starts talking before the brunette has the chance to even sit down. "They told her about her legs Saturday morning. She asked about it and they told her. She sent us away when we visited and Judy told us what happened. Santana was simply hurt. She didn't mean what she said." Rachel still doesn't go to the hospital after school.

On Tuesday, while Brittany was telling her a story about Lord Tubbington, the fiery Latina comes storming up the stairs of the bleachers. "Find yourself your own girlfriend and stop hogging mine." She starts walking down the stairs again before she realizes Brittany isn't following her. She turns around. "Britts, we're leaving!" The blonde sighs and, as she gets up, quietly tells her: "Q still isn't allowing anyone but her mother into her room. Santana doesn't deal well with feelings. But don't worry, I'll talk to her. I'll see you tomorrow." And with that, she walks down the stairs and grabs the angry Latina's hand, interlacing their fingers as they walk towards the football field together and as the brunette watches Santana's features relax instantly, Rachel thinks she understands their connection just a little better with every day that passes. She hesitates on her way home after school but decides to go home in the end anyway.

On Wednesday, a sad Brittany steps up the stairs of the bleachers to join the brunette and Rachel almost has the urge to speak because she might understand how Santana got so whipped in the first place. The blonde cheerleader with a pout on her face is about as heartbreaking as anything could ever get. Luckily, Brittany shares without Rachel trying to awkwardly make her without speaking: "San doesn't want to go to the hospital with me today. She said she had better things to do than to sit in front of a room she's not allowed to enter. I know she's just really hurt but I don't want to go there alone either."

There's a pause and Rachel thinks she already knows what's coming next and she's not sure she's ready. "Do you think you could maybe come with me, Rachel?" She wants to shake her head and tell her that, no, she can't. She really can't. But looking at the blonde sitting next to her she can't really bare to tell her no either, so she sighs and simply nods her head once before breaking eye contact. She doesn't see it coming and she has absolutely no idea how to react when Brittany's arms wrap around her tightly from beside her. "Thank you, Rachel!" And maybe, just maybe, it's not that bad in the end.

Being at the hospital, however, after so many days, is simply heartbreaking. The nurses entering and exiting Quinn's room look at her and Brittany sadly and Ms. Fabray is close to tears when she sits down next to the two of them. Rachel tenses once the woman sits down, unsure how to act around her still. When it comes down to it, Rachel is the very reason why the blonde's daughter is in this hospital. The brunette wonders whether Quinn's mother knows that. She must know that, right? Everyone knows.

"She'll be okay, Judy. Quinn's a fighter. Sanny always says so."

"She's barely even talking to me and she doesn't want me to let anyone into her room. I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I'm failing her. Again."

Rachel feels her heart break at that admission. She had talked to Quinn a bit a few weeks ago during lunch. The blonde had told her about how accepting her mother had been since she moved back in. Told me that her mother had stopped drinking and went to therapy. She told her the brunette about how accepting the older Fabray was trying to be throughout the summer before senior year and her pink-hair-phase as the woman likes to call it. Rachel had barely ever had such an honest and open conversation with the former cheerleader. Ever since Sectionals, the blonde seems to have found a certain inner peace that the brunette was almost envious of. And now, that peace is gone, destroyed. And it's all her fault.

"You're not failing her, Ms. F. Quinn is just very sad now. And whenever Q is sad she becomes super mean and pushes everyone away. San does that, too." Again, how can anyone not love Brittany?

"I'm glad my Quinnie has friends like you. Should I tell her you're here?"

"Yes, and tell her I'll be here every day until she lets me in again."

Rachel watches with interest as Quinn's mother talks to Brittany as if she's one of her own and, not for the first time, the brunette wonders how close the Unholy Trinity really is. She imagines sleepovers with the fiery Latina and the former HBIC throwing insults at each other and the tall dancer asking them to be nice to each other.

The brunette sighs and gives the cheerleader a sad smile. Quinn's mother simply places her hand on the blonde's leg for a minute and squeezes gently before getting up.

Just when Rachel starts to feel a little calmer, with the older Fabray leaving them alone again, the woman turns around and looks at her. Rachel recognizes the desperation in the woman's eyes and she has to force herself into her seat so she won't get up and hug the woman who is basically a stranger.

"She's been asking about you, you know? I think if I told her you were sitting out here, she might actually let you in."

Rachel looks at the blonde woman in shock. She had barely acknowledged her since Quinn woke up and having her address her directly and with this glimmer of hope in her eyes that reminds the small girl so much of Quinn, the brunette wishes that she could give her a positive answer; give her the answer she's looking for. Instead, the brunette sadly shakes her head. She's not ready. She's just not.

She gets up to leave but turns around one last time to look at the cheerleader sitting in her chair with tears in her eyes. She quickly leans down and wraps her arms around her, silently apologizing, before she makes her way out of the hospital and starts on the now familiar path home. She needed to get out of there. She needed time to think. But that's not right either. She's been doing that ever since _that day_ (at some point the word accident started to hurt too much to say even in her own thoughts). She's been thinking and thinking and thinking. And every single time she came up with the same results, she ended up with the same shame and guilt and hurt. She enjoys lunches with Brittany, she really does, but she still finds the most comfort in her solitude.

* * *

"_I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company."  
__― Henry Miller, __Tropic of Cancer __―_

**I'm honestly overwhelmed with the feedback I received for chapter one. I'm really glad that you seemed to like the start to this story. I hope you liked this update as well. Feel free to hit the button below and tell me ;)  
**


	3. Pouring Crimson Regret

"_Saying nothing sometimes says the most."  
― Emily Dickinson ―_

* * *

Come Monday, Rachel's fathers make her go to therapy again. She'll have therapy twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays, until she feels better. She wants to scoff at them but instead decides to simply endure it for their sake. The first 30 minutes of her session are filled with questions she doesn't answer, questions that are supposed to encourage her to speak. The brunette, however, keeps her gaze fixed on her lap, her hands gripping the handles of the arm chair tightly.

With no change in sight, the woman opposite her changes tactics, changing to questions that she can answer by shaking her head or nodding. The result is quite the same.

Before she lets Rachel go, though, she hands her a black notebook. "You don't feel like you can speak right now, Rachel, but I want you to at least try to find words for how you feel. Write them down if you can't say them out loud. I'll see you on Thursday," Dr. Hunter tells her.

Rachel sits down every night before sleep, trying to fill the empty pages with words. On Monday, the page stays empty except for the date. On Tuesday, she skips to the next page, notes down the date and writes a single sentence: _Quinn is paralyzed._ It's constantly on her mind, pushing away everything else. It's all she can think about. She skips to the next page on Wednesday night, again making sure to add the date (it's the last tiny bit of the old Rachel that she feels is still there, the need for a certain order), and before going to bed she finally writes _Quinn is paralyzed and it's my fault._

Rachel knows that Dr. Hunter will want to try and talk about what the brunette wrote down in the notebook, both the lack of writing and the two sentences she did write. But the doctor should have known beforehand what that conversation – if one can call it that – would look like.

"So Rachel, I noticed that you didn't write anything down on Monday," the older woman tries to open a dialogue, which – she should have expected it – will turn out to be a monologue.

"You did write something on Tuesday. Would you like to elaborate on what you wrote?" A simple shaking of Rachel's head from left to right and back again is as much as she gets out of the brunette. Rachel asks herself why the woman is even trying.

"Well, then let's look at the entry that, I think, brings us to the root of the problem, the reason your fathers want you to come here. You blame yourself for what happened to your classmate."

Classmate. _Classmate?_ Really? Is that what Quinn is to her? A mere classmate? Is that what this woman thinks? Quinn isn't just one of the roughly 100 people in her senior class. Quinn's – she's Quinn. She's her teammate; she's the one she can always trust to give her the hard truth (even when she doesn't plan on listening from the very beginning). Quinn is – she's her friend. Quinn is her friend. At least kind of. The brunette still remembers sitting next to the blonde girl – seeming so very young and yet so very mature at the same time in that very moment – and seeing thankfulness. That day, Rachel saw a wall come down. The former cheerleader had opened up to her, had trusted her. It filled the brunette with warmth just looking at her, noticing that tiny sparkle of hope in those hazel eyes.

Her therapist drones on with more and more questions but Rachel has already stopped listening. What's the point anyway? It's not like she would actually answer any of her questions anyway. Before she leaves, Dr. Hunter hands her the journal again and asks her to try and write down more until next Monday. She asks herself whether writing the same sentence, the one sentence echoing in her mind over and over again, multiple times counts as writing more.

* * *

"_I am nobody! Who are you? Are you a nobody, too?"  
― Emily Dickinson ―_

* * *

It's raining, pouring really. There was a time when Rachel would have appreciated the dramatic effect, would have appreciated how much it fit her mood, appreciated how it seemed to fit the situation. She has never disliked rain as so many others did; quite the opposite. Not only could she acknowledge the beauty it could create, she also recognized the cleansing effect rain had on the world, felt the calmness and quiet that washed over her surroundings. But, most importantly, Rachel Berry has always treasured the _music _it so effortlessly created whenever it hit different surfaces.

Right now, however, the brunette feels none of the things she used to tie to rain. She sees none of the beauty, feels neither clean nor calm nor quiet and, worst of all, she doesn't hear the music surrounding her.

While she stands in the rain, for the first time in her life unprepared for the weather, the rain splashing down on her, she feels none of it. She feels absolutely empty.

She catches herself thinking of the girl she was before Quinn's accident, before Finn's proposal. She thinks of the girl who stood on that stage in the Gershwin singing her heart out with Kurt while belting out "For Good", realizing she had found her one true love. A love not tied to any person, a love not tied to anything but her own talent and the future she dreamed of having.

It hits her right then and there: That girl is gone. For the life of her, she cannot find that girl anywhere inside of her anymore. And she can't even begin to find the girl who tried to convince herself that she was so in love that she needed to marry while still in high school – because life is too short. She almost laughs at the irony of it all. Almost. Because, yes, life is too short and her reaction to that discovery almost cut Quinn's life short. And it left her paralyzed.

Rachel has found herself very early on in her life. She remembers the very first time she saw _Funny Girl_ and how absolutely mesmerized she was by Barbra's performance. The movie wasn't even halfway through and little Rachel already knew how her future would play out. She knew even before she realized what the word future actually meant.

The brunette realizes now how very naïve that was. Sure, she was only a child back then. But, throughout the years, she had held on to that idea. She had held on to that dream, to her future. The moment Santana's phone crashed to the floor, everything changed. It was her wake-up call.

Rachel now realizes that there is no such thing as planning your future. She had continuously told herself that her future on Broadway was inevitable, that, no matter what people threw at her, what life threw at her, it wouldn't matter in the end because, once she made it to Broadway, it'd all be fine, it'll all have been worth it. But she understands now: There is no such thing as "inevitable". The only thing inevitable in life is death.

As she waits in the rain for her daddy to pick her up from therapy (they don't even let her drive anywhere on her own anymore), she can't help but think of Quinn (it's like she hasn't been doing anything but thinking of Quinn ever since Santana's phone hit the floor). She hasn't been to the hospital in days, she simply couldn't stand the thought of Quinn lying in that hospital bed, unable to move or even feel her legs. But something inside of her screamed at her to go back there, to be there even if she can't bring herself to enter the blonde's room.

So, when her daddy stops at the red light, she motions for him to take a left towards the hospital and, luckily, he understands without her having to do anything else or, worse, actually tell him to drive her there.

Once there, he asks her whether he should wait for her outside and she merely shakes her head. It's only a ten minute walk from the hospital to their house anyway and she'd probably need the fresh air to clear her head anyway once she, inevitably, flees the hospital again.

She wasn't prepared to see both Brittany and Santana sitting in front of Quinn's hospital, however. She battles with herself, ready to turn around and make a run for it, but then the Latina's head lifts, their eyes connecting and she's never seen such vulnerability reflect in them.

* * *

"_I am out with lanterns, looking for myself."  
― Emily Dickinson ―_

* * *

She moves towards the pair slowly, still unsure how to approach Santana. The Latina has been lashing out at her over the past week and Rachel understands, she really does. In fact, sometimes she wishes others would yell at her, too. She wishes people would stop begging her to come back to Glee, to talk again, to live again. Don't they see that they're safer this way? She's protecting them. She has to. She can't let something like this ever happen again.

As she stops before them, her head low, not making eye contact, she wonders if she should prepare herself for impact, wonders if this is the point where Santana finally lets her anger have free reign. Before she can prepare herself for anything though, she feels arms around her and blonde hair is blocking her vision as Brittany holds her tightly against her body.

"I'll just grab us some snacks real quick. Can you keep Sanny company so she won't feel alone without me?" Her words don't really register. They seem to make no sense whatsoever, but Rachel still finds herself nodding dumbly and before she knows it, she's alone with the feisty cheerleader, sitting down beside her quietly and cautiously.

Santana stays quiet, not really acknowledging her presence further than the heartbroken gaze she met her with just moments before and, when Brittany still isn't back after five minutes, Rachel starts to feel uneasy, starts to feel like this was all some big setup. But then she shakes her head, realizing how crazy she was sounding because this was Brittany and Brittany didn't do cruel. Brittany is too sweet to set Rachel up to get hurt.

"It wasn't your fault," she hears the girl next to her say quietly, her voice just as vulnerable as the haunted look in her eyes. Rachel's head snaps towards her, not sure how to respond or if Santana was referring to Quinn's accident or something else entirely. She settles on an expression that mirrors her confusion, hoping that the other girl will elaborate.

"I was angry about Q not wanting to see us, I was angry when I found out that Quinn was still asking about you. I was angry when Judy said that you were the only one she'd let in except for herself and yet, here you were, not fucking going in even though you're apparently the only one who can. I was angry when I realized at practice that my best friend will never ever cheer with me again. I was angry and I let it out on you."

The brunette was stunned and she was sure her face gave that away quite clearly. She had never heard the Latina give a speech that long which didn't consist of hurtful words and cursing. And without actually having to say it, Rachel heard the apology in Santana's words. She was even more surprised to find that the girl next to her wasn't done yet.

"So, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for yelling at you and for taking Brittany away when she's the only one you seem to actually be comfortable around. I'm also sorry for lying to you. I'm not blaming you. No one is blaming you, least of all Brits and I. Just know that –"

The Latina stops for a second and takes a deep breath before turning to really look at Rachel for the first time since she started talking.

"Just know that from now on, I'll be here. From now on, you can count not only on Brittany but also on me. You need to cry, come to us. You need to get away from anything, come to us. You want to finally open that big mouth of yours again, come to us."

Rachel doesn't know how to respond to any of that. She feels overwhelmed and numb at the same time. What is she supposed to do now? How is she supposed to respond to what the other brunette had just told her?

She was surprised yet again when she felt arms around her and soothing words whispered into her hair. "It's okay sweety, shh it's okay." And that's when she realizes that she's crying, tears streaming down her face and right into the Latina's Cheerios jacket. She lets out a small sob, admitting to herself that she had needed this hug more than words could express.

"Sanny, I told you not to make her cry," she hears Brittany say from behind her and she can see the pout on the blonde's face without having to turn around.

"I didn't, I swear. I was super nice, Britt-Britt. I apologized and everything and I actually meant it." There is still an arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder and Rachel can feel both their eyes on her. "Come on, Tiny, tell her. Get me out of the dog house already."

The brunette looks up at Brittany and nods, a tiny smile playing on her lips for a second before disappearing again as if it had never been there.

She catches Santana looking at her wrist watch and sighing before looking up at the blonde in front of them. "We gots to go Britt," she tells her. "My mom is expecting us home for dinner."

"Aw no, but Rachy just got here. We didn't even get the chance to talk yet." Rachel almost laughs at that because what they usually did wasn't really talking to each other and more Brittany talking _at_ her. She appreciated the blonde phrasing it nicely though.

"I'm sorry Britt-Britt. But hey, I'm sure Rachel would be happy to have lunch with you tomorrow."

The blonde's eyes brightened up and a smile took over her face as she looked at Rachel again. "Really?"

And how can anyone say no to _that_? Rachel doesn't even try. She merely nods her head and accepts the tackle hug she receives in return.

"Awesome, see you tomorrow Rachy," the blonde says before grabbing her girlfriend's hand and dragging her along with her, barely giving her the chance for a short wave goodbye.

And suddenly, Rachel is on her own, staring at the door in front of her, knowing that Quinn is right behind it, probably on her 20th book already since she got to the hospital, incredibly bored by the white walls and sterile environment.

She decides then and there to fight against every single one of her instincts, gets up and walks towards the door. She takes one more breath and knocks before she can talk herself out of it again. She almost runs when she hears the silent 'come in' from inside the room, so much like Quinn and yet so unlike her at the same time.

* * *

"_To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else."  
― Emily Dickinson ―_

**I am terribly sorry for the horribly long wait. I finished both my studies in the last year, started this year off in the hospital and then the job hunt began, followed by starting my new job, so I had to take a step back from writing. This story is really important to me and I was scared to screw it up (too much) if I'd just sit down for 10 minutes once in a while and write down the first crap that came to mind. I hope you can all forgive me and that you enjoyed this new chapter. I promise to update WAY sooner this time. Let me know what you thought about the update!**


	4. Your Own Worst Enemy

"_You don't have to die to go to hell."  
― __Tess Gerritsen__, __The Sinner_

* * *

"Come in."

Rachel has no idea what to do. She realizes the second she hears those two words that Quinn has no idea it's her standing here and not her mom. She doesn't let anyone but her mom in to see her. She probably thinks it's either Judy or one of the nurses and doctors who take care of her. This was a really bad idea. Like…really bad.

Apart from that, going in and not talking would make for one really awkward situation and potentially make Quinn angry...angrier. Rachel has had her share of anger directed towards her since Quinn's accident. She's not actually looking for more.

Then again, she deserved the blonde's anger, didn't she? She's the reason for her paralysis. She's the reason she's in that stupid hospital bed, having to deal with anyone's worst nightmare just shortly after finally finding herself. It'd probably only be fair to give the former head cheerleader the chance to express the anger she must surely feel.

"Come in!"

The request is slightly louder and, as a consequence, also more strained than before. Quinn obviously has to put effort into speaking this loudly and Rachel wished she could just give her her own voice. It's not like she's using hers anyway.

She soundlessly presses down on the door handle and slowly opens the door, terrified of what is waiting for her on the other side. She is terrified of Quinn's reaction, of what she might say to her…or yell at her. But she's also terrified of what Quinn might look like. She's terrified of never being able to rid herself of the image of a broken Quinn Fabray.

As she opens the door wide enough to reveal herself to Quinn, she closes her eyes tightly, as if preparing herself for the impact.

"Rachel!" The blonde's voice is not, as expected, filled with anger or hate. It's filled with surprise and causes Rachel's eyes to open up instantly, her brown eyes locking onto hazel ones.

"You're here," Quinn states, as if she can't believe it, even thought the brunette is standing just a few feet away from her. Rachel stares at the ground, both embarrassed that it took her this long to visit and support someone she considered a friend and mortified that she, the one to blame for all of this, went in at all. "You erm, do you maybe wanna sit down?" The blonde motioned towards the chair right next to her bed and Rachel doesn't know how to respond to that at all. This isn't what she'd expected. This was not part of the list of scenarios she went through in her head. Why isn't there any yelling and screaming or anger or hate? Why does it seem like Quinn is actually happy to see her?

"Rachel?"

The brunette still doesn't know what to do, how to react. She still doesn't feel like she can actually verbally reply. The only thing she can think to do is sit down in the chair Quinn has offered to her. She approaches the chair slowly and intends to straighten out her skirt as she sits down, feeling like a fool when she realizes she's wearing jeans. She hasn't been feeling like herself in so many ways since the accident, since the day she was supposed to get married.

"Wow, Rachel Berry in jeans. I think I've only ever seen you wear jeans for performances, to be honest." Quinn's tone isn't malicious, but not quite friendly teasing either. It seems to be a simple observation. Then again, Rachel still hasn't gotten used to the scratchy voice coming from Quinn's obviously too dry lips. It sounds so unlike the former head cheerleader that it's hard to actually assess her tone.

The brunette looks away, embarrassed at the girl's inquisitive look. She felt like Quinn was trying to open her up and look into her, read her like one of the at least 15 books on the nightstand next to her.

"It's true then. My mom told me, but I wasn't sure it could be true until just now." Rachel looks at the blonde, confused but also desperate. Desperate for what exactly?

"Mom said you weren't talking and Santana said you'd left Glee club."

Rachel looked down again, watching her own hands fidgeting in her lap. There's nothing to say, nothing to do. There's just…nothing.

"You know, it might be for the best that you're not talking right now," Quinn tells her and it's like a punch in the face but, at the same time, it doesn't have the annoyed tone breaking through that she's so used to from the blonde. It just sounds so…matter of fact. "At least this way, you won't be telling me that things will be fine and that there's still so many things I can do and that I still have an amazing future ahead of me. At least you won't settle for lying just to make me feel better."

And now Rachel gets it. She gets why the blonde isn't annoyed. She isn't annoyed because, right now, she has company without the pity that comes with the other's company, without someone constantly attempting to make her feel better. Right now, Quinn doesn't have to feel alone, but she also doesn't have to deal with someone _actually_ being there for her. Because, when it comes down to it, Rachel being there is not much different from her not being there, isn't it? But it still trumps being on her own all day.

"It's ironic because, of all people, I expected those speeches from you the most. I thought you'd be the one desperately trying to show me how great life can be even while in a wheelchair. I thought you'd be the one in her serenading me and making me express my own feelings through song. I thought you'd be the one constantly trying to cheer me up, scared I'd drive my wheelchair into a damn pool the second I was left unattended. And yet, here you are, not saying a word."

Rachel's eyes had connected with the blonde's throughout her speech, the guilt overwhelmingly heavy on her shoulders, on her legs, on her entire being. She felt like it was forcing her deeper into the uncomfortable hospital chair, desperately trying to merge the two. But her eyes never once leave Quinn's. They can't.

She opens her mouth, but no sound escapes. She closes it again, only to open it yet again.

"You know, you're gonna have to get over this pretty soon. You have your NYADA audition in a few weeks and you're gonna have to find a song and practice the hell out of it, Rachel Berry style." The former cheerleader's voice has changed. It has a lighter quality. Like her need to vent is satisfied and she could now actually talk to Rachel freely. Like someone has lifted a weight off of her shoulders…maybe they have put it on Rachel's shoulders instead. It would only be fair after all.

Rachel has no idea what Quinn is trying to achieve. In the end, the brunette is sure that they both know that she won't go to that audition, that she isn't going to NYADA next fall. Rachel knows it. She has accepted it. The blonde must know that, too.

"I could help you choose a song if you want me to," the blonde says and, to Rachel, she sounds almost desperate. She's probably just baiting Rachel, like they all are, desperate to get her to talk. Maybe it's easier to yell at someone, to hate someone openly, if they can talk back.

But, all it does is remind Rachel of the event that lead to this, all it does is make her look at the hospital bed, at Quinn's legs which she will never be able to use again, at the white walls which are currently the blonde's home.

She feels her face starting to heat up as her burning eyes announce the tears that were about to fill her eyes up. She holds her breath for a while, hoping to keep the tears at bay, forcing them back inside where they belong. Because, after all, her insides have been weeping since she found out about Quinn's accident. They haven't stopped, maybe they never will.

But, like most times, it's a battle she isn't meant to win and she feels tears well up in her eyes. And this might just be the one thing that was still left of her, the one thing that was still left of the old Rachel Berry: she is still openly emotional because she simply can't hold in her feelings. It isn't something she was ever taught by her parents. Her dads taught her to wear her heart on her sleeve, to always be true to herself, never ashamed, never fake. And that, at least, hasn't changed. She still can't hide her feelings.

That doesn't mean that she can't be alone with them, however. There is absolutely no reason for Quinn to be a part of what might just be the millionth breakdown she's had since the blonde's accident. There's no reason for Quinn to be subjected to this.

So instead, she takes a deep breath, begging her eyes to hold in the tears for just one more minute until she has safely left the room. She slowly gets up from the hospital chair and takes a tiny step closer to the blonde's bed, reaching out her hand for just a tiny second before withdrawing it again and turning around.

* * *

"_The heart makes its choices without weighing the consequences. It doesn't look ahead to the lonely nights that follow."  
― __Tess Gerritsen__, __Keeping The Dead_

* * *

The moment she turns around, she lets the tears fall freely, glad that the blonde can no longer see her and witness as she crumbles yet again. Just as Rachel is about the leave the room, the door opens and she finds herself standing face to face with Judy Fabray, the older woman's face portraying first shock and then outrage.

The brunette readies herself for what was sure to be a lecture on how Quinn needed to rest and Rachel being in her room would only help upset the blonde instead. She had really thought Quinn's mother would be happy she finally went in after everything. But the look on her face told a different story.

The brunette frowns in confusion, however, when the older blonde addresses her daughter instead of Rachel.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray, you don't let anyone in except for Rachel and, once she finally has the courage to come in here, you thank her by making her cry? Is this how you treat people who want to support you? The poor girl has been sitting in front of this room almost every single day since your accident and now she finally decides to come in here and instead of being grateful, you make her cry? That is not how I raised you, young lady!"

Rachel doesn't know how to react. She feels extremely uncomfortable and put on the spot, but she also feels bad for Quinn because, technically, the blonde didn't make her cry. This whole situation did.

"You've been here this whole time and never came in here? People made up lie after lie so I wouldn't think you didn't care, making me believe you'd show up the next day or the day after. I thought you didn't care about me, Rachel!"

The brunette lowers her eyes to the ground, ashamed of her actions, of her weakness, of feeling too guilty to enter this room before today. The pain in the blonde's voice is heartbreaking. All this time, Rachel had thought the former cheerleader must hate her, she thought she wouldn't want to see her anyway and, if she did want to see her, it'd only be in order to yell at her. She had to ready herself for that. She entered this room today ready to have the blonde scream at her.

She looks up and lets her tear-filled eyes connect with the blonde's hazel eyes for a few seconds before she lowers her head again, turns around and, this time, does leave the room.

* * *

"_The most intimate feeling people can share is neither love nor hate, but pain."  
― __Tess Gerritsen__, __The Surgeon_

**Now, that was a quick update, huh? You must be SO proud of me xD Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm pretty insecure about it because I'm not too fond of my writing style here, but I hope you liked it and continue to enjoy this ride with me. **

**And to those who asked about Quinn's POV. I can't promise I'll write it. It was supposed to be from Rachel's POV only, but I think of maybe doing an interlude from Quinn's POV. We'll just have to see about that, alright? ;)**


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